away
by shimmeringbubbles
Summary: Dominique/Lysander, partly freeverse. But you are Dominique Weasley, and Dominique doesn't do things like that. You are Lysander Scamander: you are the boy that no one wants.
1. Lysander

A/N: Challenge given to me by Sabriel1317, as my final story/freeverse before I can become a beta reader! I'm not sure if I'll keep writing after that, but I probably will. So, a Lysander/Dominique fic; with the genres Hurt/Comfort and Family. If it's terrible, please don't flame – Rae has a strange sense of humour.

**Lysander**

He's

d:i:f:f:e:r:e:n:t

[but then, so are you]

his

b/l/o/n/d/e

hair

*notasniceasyours*

_well, aren't we vain_

(((or just maybe a bit)))

j\e\a\l\o\u\s

that he can be

**whoever**

he wants

and you're

|cast|

in this

|mold|

you kind of **wish**

you weren't so

_Weasley_

because

e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e

knows your

**face**

and they think they know

[you]

so when you find him

\\crying\\

in the corridor

you don't stop

because you're

**m.a.d**

and

{{{sad}}}

and deep down you just

*w*i*s*h*

you were like

**h**i**m**

(((what business has he to be crying)))

when you're

b/r/e/a/k/i/n/g

up inside

so you

_turn_

on your heel

and just

~walk~

**away.**

**A/N: **Tell me what you think, whether you hated it, loved it, or didn't really care. I'd love your input! Thanks to Rae for inspiration.


	2. Dominique

A/N: Here is the second chapter, this time from Lysander's POV. What do you think? Thanks to Sabriel1317 for inspiration and 'encouragement'.

**Dominique**

She's all

*shimmer*sparkle*shine*

with her

_golden blonde_

hair

**andthenthere'syou**

(weak)

((you'rejustnotgoodenough))

(((neverwillbegoodenough)))

for

[her]

and you're

\\crying\\

in the

c:o:r:r:i:d:o:r

nevergoingtotell

~anyone~

**why**

and she walks

**p**a**s**t

you kind of

_secretly wish_

she would

.stop.

and ask

**why**

because even though you'd never

[tell]

a.n.y.o.n.e

you might tell

**her**

but she turns and walks

**away**

(and a little piece of you

b/r/e/a/k/s

inside)

A/N: What do you think? Review please, each review literally makes my day. PS I will write more chapters, I want them to eventually end up together (Just for you, Rae.)


	3. Weasley

A/N: This is the third chapter for Sabriel1317's challenge. It's no longer in free verse, as you might notice, but I might switch back later.

**Weasley**

Your name is Dominique. You're a Weasley, but you wish you weren't. You're completely in love with a certain blonde-haired boy who doesn't even know you exist. So when you find him crying in a corner, and you're feeling bitter at the world, you don't stop to think. You just turn and walk away.

When you hear a quiet sniff, you feel the urge to turn around, run back and hug him so hard he can't breathe. But you're Dominique Weasley, and Dominique doesn't do things like that. She's calm and composed, all the time.

But _Merlin _is it hard walking away from the boy you love. Each step you take is smaller, and slower, until you aren't moving anymore. You aren't exactly sure how that happened, but you're glad, because it makes it that little bit easier to turn around.

And when you do, you're glad you did, because he's there, looking up at you, eyes still messy and bloodshot. Even when he's just been bawling his eyes out, he's still beautiful.

Without even realising what you're doing, you run to him. Once you're there, you aren't exactly sure what to do, though, so you just sit down next to him and smile awkwardly. You've never wanted to kiss anyone more in your life, just to see him smile, but you're Dominique Weasley, and you don't kiss people just because you feel like it.

He doesn't seem to have any of these rules, though, because he leans forward and pulls you into a hug.

You're so surprised, you forget to pull away, and instead lean forward into his comfortable arms. You're breaking all your rules now, but honestly? You don't care. In fact, you decide that while you're here, you may as well enjoy it, and bury your face in his neck. It smells amazing, and for a few moments you wish you could just stay like this forever.

Just when you're about to pull away, Lysander lifts his head from where it's been resting on your shoulder. You're surprised into lifting your head as well and looking him in the eyes.

You've never really noticed how nice his eyes are, despite the number of times you've gazed at him in Charms, or Potions. They're a clear blue, with no secrets. Not like yours. Yours are grey; cloudy; full of mist and mystery.

As you're contemplating this, he speaks, and you forget to pay attention because you're too busy staring at him and listening to his voice. He repeats himself:

"Are you okay?"

Why is he asking you? He's the one who was crying, right? He lifts a hand to your cheek and swipes his thumb across, and you realise with a start that tears are dripping down your cheeks.

That one thought somehow sets you off, and you bury your head back into his neck and cry like it's the last thing you'll ever do. You're letting out all your bitterness and anger and hate, letting it all fall out against his warm shoulder.

To his credit, he doesn't try to ask you why you're upset. He just holds you tight and lets you sob your heart out. It's not a Dominique Weasley thing to do, really, but by now, you don't care.

After what seems like hours, you sniff one final time and sit up. You're sure you look hideous – eyes puffy and bloodshot, hair messy and robes rumpled – and you don't want Lysander to see you like this. You try to pull out of his embrace, but he doesn't let you.

"What's wrong?" he asks softly. It all comes pouring out: how no one loves you for being you and no one wants to get to know you for yourself. When you're done, you hide your face in his robes, fearing his judgement. You're a weak, stupid fool, hoping he'll understand and sympathise with your superficial desires.

He pushes your head up gently, wanting to look you in the eye. In his blue eyes, you don't see judgement, as you feared: you see caring, gentleness.

Abruptly, you push him away. You can't have this now. This is not a Dominique Weasley action. This is breaking all your rules; you can't get too close to him. He lets you go reluctantly and you stand up.

"I'm sorry for intruding on your time. I'm going back to the common room. Maybe I'll see you later," you say, trying to sound gentle like he always does, but you have a horrible feeling you sound stiff and dismissive. He nods, looking disappointed, but you steel yourself against his (seemingly catching) emotions and walk away. You don't look back, because you know his blue eyes will be watching you, and right now, Dominique Weasley can't face that.

A/N: There will be more chapters! I'm not sure how long this is going to end up, but the next chapter will probably be from Lysander's perspective.


	4. Scamander

A/N: Yes, I know I haven't updated in ages! Sorry, life's super busy right now with a whole lot of exams. Don't know yet if I'm going to switch back to freeverse.

**Scamander**

You are Lysander Scamander. You are the boy that no one wants.

Your father wishes you were braver. Stronger. Smarter.

Your mother wants you to be wilder. Crazier. Zanier.

You're not wild. Not smart. You're just safe, boring Lysander. Ordinary Lysander.

(who would want an ordinary boy?)

You drift off in daydreams, trying to be your mother's son. You study hard, trying to be your father's.

(you're neither, and that hurts)

You know your parents will never let you be yourself. You have the proof of that in your pocket. You hear the paper crumpling as you roughly swipe your sleeve against your eyes, getting ready to go back to your dorm.

Footsteps sound in the hallway, and you look up only to see _her_ golden hair swinging over her shoulder as she turns away, and even though you'd never tell anyone why you're crying, you might have told her, but she would never care enough to ask.

You push down the disappointment, knowing you should never have expected her to care for you, because that's what Dom does, she pushes people away.

(everyone calls her Dominique but you)

Your hand reaches involuntarily into your pocket, and your fingertips touch warm, waxy paper. Hating your weakness, your need to be loved, you look up again and meet her cloudy grey eyes, staring at you with uncertainty.

It's a shock, because you'd expected her to leave, and you can see the indecision in her face. She runs back, seeming not to realise what she's doing, and awkwardly sits beside you.

You watch her struggle with words as tears gather in her eyes and before you can think, you lean over and wrap your arms around her. Surprised at yourself, you freeze for a moment, but she simply leans forward and rests her head on your shoulder. You bury your face in her shoulder, gently stroking her hair, breathing in her crisp-French-perfume scent.

You feel your shirt getting wet and reluctantly lift your head. She looks up, surprised, tears dripping unnoticed down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, because this is what Dom does to you, she makes you forget about yourself, because she is more important.

She stares uncomprehendingly and you repeat yourself, gently, because you know that Dom is breakable, and if she can break, then there is no hope for you.

(she is exceptional, and you are ordinary, and you love her)

You gently reach over and smooth a thumb carefully across her cheek, brushing away the tears. She looks shocked, and the floodgates open, and you don't say anything but simply hold her tighter and tighter until the tears dry up and she lifts her head, trying not to meet your eyes.

(Merlin, she's beautiful)

"What's wrong?" you ask, because you're pretty sure you'll need to go punch someone after this.

You're wrong. It all spills out, and you have much more in common with her than you'd thought. She buries her face in your robes, and you lift her chin, needing to look at her.

She pushes you away, quickly, and the stab of resigned pain in your chest is familiar by now. Because that's what Dom does, she pushes people away.

Dom stands, speaks. You have no idea what she said because you're too busy listening to the cold, harsh tone of her voice and wondering what you did wrong.

(she leaves, and you are left)

_Lysander, _

_Your mother and I were very disappointed to receive your report from this term. Excellent work in Ancient Runes, as always, but honestly, son, an A in Transfiguration and Charms is not good enough, and your Care of Magical Creatures mark was nothing short of terrible. _

_Lysander, I think we've taught you better than this. You've grown up surrounded by magical creatures, so I cannot comprehend why you are not doing better in this subject. I expect an improvement next term. Your brother is doing far better than you in virtually every subject, so there is no excuse. _

_Your loving parents. _

(you are always left)


End file.
